Despite herself, Alethea had to laugh. The image of Tristan completely buried beneath a heap of green fur was too vivid. Her eyes crinkled, glanced away. He was making a lot of eye-contact – an unusual amount, she thought. If she wasn’t careful, she might blush. She tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear.
“I love that mare,” she commented, insignificantly. “She has such a pretty head.” Embarrassed, she reached behind her to caress Hero’s velvet muzzle. “Not as pretty as you, of course.” She directed to the horse, and lightly kissed the top of his nose. When she looked back, Tristan was sitting beside her in the grass, at an angle so their feet made an arrow pointing toward the castle. Between them, Leto nosed the prince’s hand. This is nice, Thea thought, admiring the tableau of the horses, the prince, her familiar, their distant home.
“I was wondering,” he began. Thea looked up at him, "if you had any plans for the Halloween faire?" She opened her mouth a little, then closed it. “Um,” she said, glancing back at the castle briefly, and shrugged her shoulders by way of an answer. Was he....was he asking her to the party? As a...date?
No, perhaps not. With that last comment, he probably meant they should go together as friends. She bit her lip, half relieved and half disappointed. He’s my friend, she reminded herself, no matter what.
“Do I yell at you that often?” she demanded playfully, sitting up so she could lean toward him. “I’ll go with you, but I can’t promise I won’t raise my voice.”
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